


behavior modification (or, laura barton's therapy sessions for avengers, and tips on how to avoid a civil war)

by andibeth82



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Laura Barton is so sick of everyone acting like children and they need to stop fighting, Pre-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's got a problem with each other. Everyone wants to fight. Laura Barton's got a solution for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	behavior modification (or, laura barton's therapy sessions for avengers, and tips on how to avoid a civil war)

**Author's Note:**

> This is very loosely based on a [tumblr post](http://isjustprogress.tumblr.com/post/140878673110/team-laura-barton-makes-all-the-avengers-come-to-a) I made about Laura Barton being the person who just tells everyone to sit down and stop fighting (which I'm sure I'll be writing about a lot more, and much more seriously when the movie comes out if ideas and notes are any indication). But really, this is also just a lot of fluff I don't apologize for.  
>  
> 
> _[behavior modification: a treatment approach, based on the principles of operant conditioning, that replaces undesirable behaviors with more desirable ones through positive or negative reinforcement.]_

 “Mommy.”

The voice cuts into the silence that she’s been relishing, and she tries to ignore it, taking deep, long breath.

“Mommy.”

_Sitali Pranayama._

“MOMMY.”

Laura opens her eyes to meet Lila’s petulant face, one half of a pigtail unruly and uncurling around her small shoulder. Lila sighs in exasperation, the same way Laura knows she might react if she was on the other side of the conversation, having to say the next words out loud.

“Daddy and Nat are fighting again.”

 

***

 

Daddy and Nat, it turns out, are fighting about something that Clint’s apparently decided is so important, he needs to shout loudly about it -- so loudly that Laura can hear him from behind a closed bathroom door the moment she gets up the stairs.

“I can’t believe you used my face towel! _My_ face towel!” Clint holds up a cloth that’s both wet and smeared with a colorful palette of black and tan and pink.

“ _Your_ face towel?” Natasha crosses her arms. “You told me I could use that every time I came over so that I didn’t have to keep asking for stuff. It’s not my fault you didn’t realize it was the only one you liked.”

“What’s going on?” Laura asks, stepping into both the room and the conversation, and Clint and Natasha turn around guiltily.

“I, uh.” Clint rubs the back of his neck. “You heard?”

“Seriously?” Laura throws up her hands. “Our six-year-old just came downstairs to tell me you were fighting! What the hell is wrong?”

“Like I said,” Clint explains bitingly, waving the towel in front of Laura’s face. “She used my favorite face towel. Now, it’s just full of make-up. It’s going to take forever to clean it. They don’t even make this brand of towels anymore.”

“Serves you right for always hogging the bathroom when we go away on missions,” Natasha grumbles. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to do your makeup in a hallway mirror and bad lighting?”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in the middle of yoga and have your child tell you that she can hear two of her favorite people fighting?” Laura interjects while Clint and Natasha look at each other in sudden embarrassment. It’s Clint who apologizes first.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, similar to the way Laura had been trying to relax before. “It’s just...things are happening in New York, with us, with the team. It’s a shitshow of epic proportions. Everyone is arguing because they’re on different sides of things and tensions are so high, it’s hard not to take that with you when you leave.”

Laura furrows her brow and regards both of the people in front of her for a long time, because she knows what she’s getting into when Clint says things like “tensions are high,” and “with the team.” She also notices that Natasha looks even more guilty as he finishes talking, and her suspicions rise.

“I don’t understand. What’s happening in New York?”

 

***

 

Laura doesn’t want to make everyone come to the farm, because she values her privacy and her children’s privacy and above all, her sanity. So after Clint and Natasha wake up at the crack of dawn to leave the farm to go back to New York, she packs her overnight bag and leaves her children with her parents for the weekend, and calls a cab that takes her to the airport.

“I’m coming to New York,” she says when Clint answers the phone. She can tell he’s just barely gotten through the door but doesn’t give him a chance to respond or complain before she hangs up. Seven hours later, as the afternoon rush hour is starting to hit 42nd Street, Laura Barton shows up on Tony Stark’s doorstep with four iced coffees, a bag of homemade scones, and her best no-nonsense look.

“Oh, boy, Barton’s going to be glad to see you,” says Tony as he lets her inside. “Either that or I need to put you in my soundproof room, because I _really_ don’t need to hear another baby being made. I have enough Barton related nightmares on a daily basis. Seriously, are you sure you want to come in here?”

“I’ll take my chances,” Laura says flatly, sidestepping a robot that whirs into her path because sometimes there are PTA meetings where she was forced to stand up and argue her point against annoying and haughty parents, and sometimes there was a billionaire who had things like soundproof rooms and robots casually roaming around his house. She raises an eyebrow and turns around.

“Any chance I could get one of those for my kitchen?”

Tony, to his credit, actually seems to consider the question. “Be nice to me and maybe I’ll make one as a late wedding gift, considering none of us knew you existed for years.”

Laura smiles, and holds out the cardboard cupholder. “In that case, might I suggest having some coffee? It might be a long night.”

 

***

 

There are stranger sights, Laura thinks, than seeing a displaced group of superheroes in civilian clothing sitting around the living room like a bunch of kids at the summer camp that Cooper goes to every year. So she says so.

“Okay, but, I mean, you’re married to Clint Barton. I really don’t think things could be as strange as _that_ ,” offers Tony. Clint shoots him a look.

“Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about!”

“Oh, five years later and _now_ we’re playing the wife card,” Tony returns casually, biting into a sandwich he’s been nursing. Laura holds up her hands, surveying the room.

“ _Enough_. I don’t even want to know what’s wrong with everyone.”

“What’s _wrong_ is that Mr. Brainwashed Soldier here and his Star Spangled best friend decided that we agreed with the World Security Council while we were ordering a pizza.” Tony points a finger towards where Steve is sitting on the couch, finishing off what Laura knows is his third slice of pepperoni pie.

“This has been going on a lot longer than pizza, Tony,” Steve says after he finishes eating, shooting a glance to the scruffy looking, dark haired man sitting next to him. Laura lets her eyes linger on the only person she doesn’t truly know, before she turns her gaze back to the group.

“Okay, then. Who wants to talk about why they’re upset?”

For a moment, there’s silence, and no one bothers to speak. Finally, Natasha looks up, wiping hair out of her eyes.

“He kicked me in training,” says Natasha, pointing at Clint. “And he stole my hurricanrana move. Which he couldn’t even perform properly.”

“ _She_ stole my arrows,” Clint complains, crossing his arms. There’s more silence, until Wanda speaks up.

“He tried to keep me from being with my friends.” She glares at Vision, who looks put out.

“I only was trying to protect the people that I cared about,” Vision returns demurely, his voice a quiet drone among loud, boisterous protesting. Laura turns to Steve and Tony with raised eyebrows.

“ _He_ wanted us to abide with the government,” says Steve, pointing at Tony. “He wanted the government to control us.”

“Excuse me for being vigilant,” Tony mutters. “What’s going to happen when we’re just allowed to roam free of our own will and more cities get destroyed? And then we’re being blamed for our messes all over again?”

Steve is suddenly yelling again, something about “ _well, maybe someone shouldn’t have built a robot that was intent on mass destruction_ ,” and Laura almost misses the voice that speaks last.

“I didn’t mean to kill people,” Bucky Barnes mumbles in a barely audible voice, nursing his metal arm.

Laura puts her hands against her temple, and sighs.

 

***

 

“She did this on our wedding day, you know.” Clint says the words proudly as he pours himself a large cup of coffee in Stark’s gaudy New York Starbucks mug. “Three of her friends hated each other, and she sat them down in a circle and put their asses in place right before the ceremony. They never fought again.”

“They had it coming,” Laura says as she walks into the kitchen, swiping the coffee from his hand while Clint pouts. She takes a drink and then hands it back. “And so will you, if you don’t start acting like an adult.”

“I love you,” Clint calls from across the room, his voice carrying through the massive space, and Laura rolls her eyes.

 

***

 

Wanda Maximoff is feisty in a way that reminds Laura of herself, and in a way that also reminds Laura of Lila.

“You’d get along well with my daughter,” she decides when Wanda sits down on the bed. “She has a very headstrong personality.”

“I do not like to fight,” Wanda says in response, and Laura feels herself soften at the sight of the girl that she knows lost so much, the girl whose brother had found a new home and legacy in their tiny baby.

“Then why _are_ you fighting? Clint told me you found something of a comfort in Vision.”

“I did,” Wanda admits. “But then he chose to align himself with views I did not believe in. My brother died for us. And I cannot have him trying to hurt the people I love.”

Laura smiles gently, picking up a decorated green box by her feet and offering it towards the other girl. “Sometimes, when you fight with someone, that’s when you realize how important they are to you. Clint and I have had many fights over the years, but we also recognize that those fights are not worth ending our marriage over. Not even the big ones.”

Wanda looks into the box curiously and takes a cookie, biting into it tentatively.

“I do not want to fight,” she says again, and Laura puts her hand on her knee.

“Ask yourself if what you’re angry about is worth fighting for or against. You’ve been in a war, haven’t you?”

Wanda nods slowly. “Yes. Me and Pietro. Sokovia was torn apart by war. And then we tore it apart even more, without meaning to.”

“Then you should know that sometimes, there’s no glory in war. That’s all I want you to be able to see. That’s what I tell my husband all the time when he goes into the field. I’m not here to tell you that you should or shouldn’t fight, Wanda. But if you don’t want to, and if you don’t feel a need, you don’t _have_ to. No one does.”

Wanda smiles and nods slowly, while Laura reaches over and squeezes her hand.

 

***

 

“So you called your wife,” Steve says to Clint when they have a free moment. Clint shakes his head vehemently.

“Are you kidding me? I mentioned we were arguing and having some issues, but I did _not_ call my wife. The last thing I would do is get Laura involved in this. Ask Natasha.”

“It’s true,” Natasha says from beside him, looking up from her book. “That girl is a whip cracker. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a five-foot-three-inch farm girl shut down two kids without opening her mouth.”

“Fantastic,” Steve mutters. “I can’t wait for my own session.”

“ _You_ ?” Clint looks disturbed. “ _I’m_ the one who’s gotta worry if I’m getting laid later!”

Natasha smacks him with the back of her palm. Steve snorts. Wanda emerges from the room with eyes that match the small sparks coming out of her fingers.

“Captain Rogers, she said that you’re next.”

 

***

 

“I’d offer you cookies, but I feel a little strange doing that when I had your poster on my wall as a teenager,” Laura says apologetically when Steve enters. Steve smiles grimly.

“It’s okay. I can do without the cookies.”

“You sure?” Laura quirks an eyebrow. “Girl Scout cookies only come once a year. Clint hates when he misses my daughter bringing them home. It’s the only time I’ve seen a grown man cry, with the exception of when Natasha hits him.”

When Steve doesn’t even laugh at the comment, she leans forward with her hands on her knees. “My husband talks a lot about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Steve looks curious, his interest clearly piqued. “What about?”

Laura watches Steve’s face, and the way the lines on his forehead appear in curious folds. “Your teamwork. Your history. He says you’re part of the reason he’s inspired to fight.”

“I’m trying to fight _now_ ,” Steve says and Laura shakes her head.

“You’re fighting with each other,” she points out. “For no reason. Because you see an issue you don’t agree on and you can’t come to a conclusion that will let one side win out over the other. You’re fighting like my children do when they see the last Oreo in the cookie jar. That’s not inspiring. That’s demoralizing.”

“And you think Stark is right?” Steve asks. “You think he’s doing this because he wants the government to look at our every move, and keep us under lock and key?”

“No,” Laura says. “I don’t think _either_ of you are right about that. But you were in a war, weren’t you? Why did you want to be involved and fight so badly back then?”

This time, Laura watches as Steve’s face goes from angry to frustrated to confused to regretful. “Because I hated bullies,” he says slowly. “I didn’t care where they were from.”

“You’d get along well with my son,” Laura says with a faint smile. “Fortunately, he’s being taught to channel his anger into something productive, thanks to Natasha. Which is probably the strangest sentence I’ve ever said, considering it’s Natasha.”

“And you’re comparing me to a ten-year-old,” Steve says, making a face.

Laura sighs. “I’m only trying to get you to realize that you don’t need to senselessly fight in order to make your points. If this is just a cat fight among superheroes, what’s going to happen if the stakes get higher? Who wins or loses when you’re fighting the way you did in Sokovia, but against each other, and there are bigger things to worry about than a bunch of papers that the government is asking you to sign?”

Steve doesn’t answer that, and then looks down at the ground again.

“On second thought, I’ll take a cookie, if you don’t mind. I do like Thin Mints.”

 

***

 

“Please tell me he did not attempt your hurricanrana,” Laura says when Natasha walks into the room, frowning heavily. “He’s an archer and a marksman, he’s not a combat spy.”

“He attempted the hurricanrana. So I stole his arrows. It was fair game.”

Laura knows Natasha should be talked to, but she also can’t make herself get off the subject. “He wouldn’t even do that in bed with me, if I asked. Maybe I should force him too.”

Natasha grimaces. “If you want him to break his neck, go right ahead.”

Laura doesn’t offer Natasha a cookie because she knows Natasha doesn’t particularly like Girl Scout cookies. (Clint had offered a lot of opinions about why that was wrong when he found out.) Laura offers her a flask instead.

Stark Tower being Stark Tower has no shortage of security cameras going at all times, so instead of instructing Natasha on ways to not fight with her best friend, Laura lets Natasha drink while she watches the footage of Clint attempting to take Natasha down using only his thighs over and over again, and it’s the most fun she’s had in a long time.

 

***

 

“She practically gave me a therapy session,” whines Steve, and Clint is amused because he never thought Captain America could actually _whine_.

“She does that,” he says, pouring himself a healthy amount of whiskey. It’s early for day drinking, but they’re also in Stark Tower, so he knows there was no “early” the same way there would be at the farm.

“Like we can’t take care of ourselves.”

“I mean, she has a point. We kind of can’t. We’re basically at each other’s throats.”

Steve glowers as Clint knocks back his drink. “Only because we can’t agree on anything.”

“Uh huh. And whose fault is that?” Clint looks at Steve pointedly and Steve gives him a look.

“Don’t act like you’re such a saint, Barton. _You’ve_ had disagreements, too.”

“Yeah, but the difference is, at the end of all those disagreements, I know where I stand.” Clint tries to take another drink but before he can, the glass is swiped clean from his hand. When he blinks, Natasha’s smirking from halfway across the room.

“Hey!”

(Clint doesn’t even know how she _got_ halfway across the room in the time it took him to blink, except he does.)

“That’s for stealing my hurricanrana.”

 

***

 

Clint hasn’t told Laura anything about Bucky Barnes, so all Laura knows is that the former assassin used to be Steve’s best friend, as well as one of the deadliest killers. It’s enough to go off of, but Laura’s never liked to approach things without having a good base, and as such, Bucky Barnes is Laura’s toughest project -- moreso than Cooper’s failed science experiment was.

And, Laura thinks as he sits down in front of her, eyes darting and fingers fidgeting, it takes a lot for her to think something is worse than an eight-year-old _absolutely insisting_ it was possible to build a solar ray that also shot laser beams.

“I did a lot of bad things,” Bucky says uncomfortably, continuing to focus not on Laura, but on the mahogany door of Tony’s guest bedroom, as if he expects someone to come in and arrest him at any moment.

“So did my husband, once upon a time,” Laura says gently, trying to turn his attention away from the door. “And I’m sure you heard about that.”

Bucky finally meets her eyes and smiles slightly, a hint of understanding. “I’m trying to reform,” he says slowly.

“That’s what my husband’s best friend did,” Laura says, putting a hand on his arm. The metal feels cool and strange beneath her fingers, and it makes her shudder uncomfortably, but she tries to put the feeling out of her mind.

“They all think I’m a villain.” Bucky wrenches his arm away from Laura’s grasp, as if he can hear her thoughts. “You do, too.”

Laura takes a second to compose herself and then shakes her head, picking up the box of cookies. “I don’t think you’re a villain,” she says. “I think you’re misunderstood. I think you’re taking your anger of what happened to you on people who didn’t have anything to do it with. I think you’re angry at each other because of this, and you’re not thinking of the fact that there are people and feelings behind your emotions and choices.”

“Steve always did what was right,” Bucky says, taking a cookie with his good hand. He chews for awhile before swallowing and then takes another. “It always got him in trouble.”

“I can tell,” Laura says. “But you’re going to get in more trouble the longer you let your fights build up without talking about things. And when the world needs saving, who’s going to save it, if you all hate each other and if you’re all at each other’s throats?”

Bucky takes a third cookie. “You’re very smart,” he says, and Laura feels her cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment from a man that seems entirely made of knives and metal.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she says with a sly smile. “After all, I did marry Clint Barton.”

 

***

 

Clint’s told Laura about most of the Avengers, including Vision. But words are one thing, and Laura thinks nothing can prepare her for the artificially made man who regally walks into the room and sits down across from her, looking like he wants to give her advice of his own.

“You are not here to fight,” Vision assesses.

“No,” Laura responds. “But neither are you.”

Vision looks sad. “I wish that were the case,” he says mournfully. “I wish the people I cared about did not care so much about hurting each other. We have seen what the damage can be if all we know is hate and single-mindedness.”

“Then why are you fighting in the first place?” Laura asks.

“Because I have served Tony Stark for years, and I do believe in his ideals,” Vision says a bit resignedly. “Though, I am hopeful that we can talk this out and start working together peacefully again.”

“Well.” Laura takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I will say that you’re the most logical person I’ve talked to so far.”

“Thank you,” Vision says with a smile. “You are the only person so far who has cared to sit us down and ask what is wrong. Everyone else has just been yelling. It would seem Barton makes good choices in who he surrounds himself with, when he is not fighting.”

Laura blushes as Vision leaves, wondering if she can erase security footage of the exchange before Tony finds a way to use it against her, because the last thing she needs is Clint teasing her that, sure, a literal _Asgardian_ _God_ can walk into her house with no problem, but a smooth talking artificial man has her stomach in knots.

 

***

 

“Are you seriously playing video games? _Now_? While your wife is running therapy sessions?”

“Yes.” Clint doesn’t take his eyes off the screen in front of him, angling the control as he talks. “Do you know how much Laura hates my video game obsession? Basically, the only time I can play without getting yelled at is when I get the kids to bed and she doesn’t notice.”

Steve throws a wary glance to Natasha, who is sitting next to Clint, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she pounds the controller with a little too much force.

“It helps channel her aggression,” Clint explains. “I played a lot of video games with her when she started at SHIELD and when she got tired of punching bags and people. She practically destroyed my ass in all levels of Super Mario Brothers. And cleaned me out of all my alcohol, and fifty dollars.”

“And five levels of Pacman on those old arcade games at the mall, _and_ six rounds of old school Nintendo,” Natasha adds proudly as she blows up something on screen. “His son hates me because I’m so good.”

“It’s true, he does,” Clint agrees, turning his attention back to the game. Steve groans, and rubs a hand over his eyes.

“I give up.”

 

***

 

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem like the type of woman that Barton would marry,” Tony says when he sits down with Laura. “And by the way, it should be noted that if you’re trying to give me therapy, I’ve been in various therapy sessions since I was like, three. In Hollywood, if you don’t have a shrink, people think you’re crazy.”

“Johnny Carson said that, not you,” Laura says boredly. “And you’re not in Hollywood.”

“I’m practically a damn public figure, and I was even before Iron Man,” Tony protests. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter who said it, because _I_ said it. The point is, I’ve been seen for basically everything from family trauma to abandonment issues, and then I suffered from post traumatic stress disorder.”

“Noted,” Laura says dryly and Tony eyes the box by Laura’s feet.

“Do I get a Girl Scout cookie, then?”

Laura rolls her eyes and holds out the box. “You don’t agree with Captain America because you want to be controlled by government, but he has no interest in letting anyone do that.”

“Correct,” Tony says curtly, devouring a Thin Mint and brushing crumbs off his pants. “Are you here to tell me what’s wrong with that?”

“Of course not,” Laura says. “And anyway, I think you have a valid point.” She pauses. “I think he has a valid point, too.”

Tony makes a face at her words and Laura rubs a hand over her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to fight each other,” she says after a moment. “There’s no _reason_ for you to fight each other like this, to take sides and force your friends to choose what’s right or wrong. You can work this out together. And you can fix it before you start throwing actual fists at each other.”

“What, are you gonna tell me that we’re a team or something?” Tony asks sarcastically.

“You _are_ a team,” Laura argues. “And right now, you’re acting like a team the average age of elementary school kids.”

“We’re Avengers,” Tony protests, as if he means the response to be a reasonable answer to her insult. Laura fixes him with a glare.

“Then I’d suggest you start acting like it. Because you’re _not_ the team my husband talked about and defended to me when he brought you to my house.”

“Not exactly what you read about in the papers, huh?” Tony asks.

“No,” Laura says sharply. “But the point is, you should talk things out like this, instead of punching each other or yelling at each other. Because you’re right. You _are_ Avengers. And last I checked, that’s what Avengers are supposed to do.”

 

***

 

By the time Laura has finished doling out advice and has sat through a lengthy dinner of Chinese take-out that’s included one robot whirring around at her feet like a cat, one long exchange of Steve and Tony trying to one-up each other on battle stories, one instance of Wanda accidentally sending a bottle of soy sauce across the table with too much force thanks to stray powers, and one moment of Natasha drinking everyone under the table in sake with barely any consequence whatsoever, she’s more than willing to accept the large guest bedroom that Tony’s allowed her and Clint to occupy for the night.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

Clint’s talking from the bathroom, sticking his head out and speaking from around a toothbrush, thick white foam dribbling down his chin and onto his bleached sleep shirt.

“Well, they’re all a mess,” Laura says, raising her voice as he ducks back into the bathroom. “But I could’ve told you that a year ago. In fact, I think I did.”

“Okay, yeah. So.” There’s a long silence while Clint gurgles some water and then walks back into the room, crawling onto the bed and face planting into the pillow. “More specifically, what’s the verdict on all our disagreements? Do you think we have any chance of making up and returning to normal?”

“Maybe,” Laura muses, figuring she can attribute being able to understand his unintelligible mumbling thanks to over ten years of marriage. “Their hearts are all in the right place. They’re just losing themselves in their anger and not seeing things correctly or maturely. _Especially_ you.”

“ _Me_?” Clint rolls over and meets Laura’s eyes in defiance.

“Yes. You. Trying to use Natasha’s signature move was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Aw, come on.” Clint’s face falls and he pouts aggressively. “I mean, if I really need that much yelling, and if everyone really need that much work, you could stay for a few days.”

“It’s sounding like you’re trying to find excuses to _get_ me to stay,” Laura points out.

“Well, you’ve pretty much given a therapy session to everyone but me,” Clint explains, and Laura sighs.

“You’re my husband, Clint. I can give you a therapy session any day of the week, I don’t have to do it here.”

“Yeah, but still,” Clint says, waving his hand around lazily. “I mean, private soundproof room…no kids running around…a robot that makes breakfast…not to mention a built-in therapist that also _happens_ to be the woman I married.” He breaks off with a cheeky grin. “I’m just saying, maybe everyone fighting wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

Laura laughs, and Clint takes a Girl Scout cookie from the box next to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Super huge thanks to my hero [newredshoes](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/newredshoes) for speedy and perfect beta and for whipping this into shape on short notice -- and indulging in my 10pm on a Saturday night ideas. 
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://isjustprogress.tumblr.com) for more fic and flails.


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